


filling space in your sheets

by Merideath



Series: brittle bones [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mild Language, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she wakes the world is a blurry mess of muted colours. Her eyes are gritty and she reaches for her glasses on the bedside table but they aren't there. She frowns reaching around and blinks her eyes slowly. She shifts and stretches out her legs and back. The bed is empty beside her, but there is whistling from the other room. She carefully sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed, curling her toes on the carpet. There is a discarded grey shirt on the floor that she scoops up and pulls over her head. It smells of James and the SHIELD emblem is printed over the front. </p><p>The morning after the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	filling space in your sheets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katertots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katertots/gifts).



> I didn't think the story needed a second chapter but my muse thought differently, so after a zillion emails back and forth with Katertots you have this. It didn't go where I thought it would but I hope you enjoy the ride just the same.
> 
> I think I shall work on some nice fluff and crack next, this angst lark hurts my heart.
> 
> So many thanks for katertots encouragement and beta-ing skills.
> 
> Filling space in your sheets- Candles by Daughter

When she wakes the world is a blurry mess of muted colours. Her eyes are gritty and she reaches for her glasses on the bedside table but they aren't there. She frowns, reaching around and blinking her eyes slowly. She shifts and stretches out her legs and back. There is a not unpleasant ache between her legs and when she smoothes her hand down her belly, she is absolutely naked. She never sleeps naked, it's too vulnerable. That's when the memories flood back. James' red rimmed eyes as he pressed into her. Her sobbing Steve's name while James’ shaggy head was between her legs. The tears and quiet confessions. James' artificial arm wrapping around her. Comfort. Filling his sheets.

The bed is empty beside her, but there is whistling from the other room. She carefully sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed, curling her toes on the carpet. There is a discarded grey shirt on the floor that she scoops up and pulls over her head. It smells of James and the SHIELD emblem is printed over the front.

She pads barefoot to the door and heads for the kitchen. The muscles in her thighs burn and she wishes she had her panties on. "Morning, doll," James calls from the kitchen, the same time Darcy registers the smell of coffee and bacon.

"Coffee?" Darcy makes grabby hands and James chuckles. He hands Darcy her glasses and a mug filled with coffee. Cream. One and a half sugars. Her particular brand of poison. She slips her glasses on closes her eyes at the first sip. She moans happily and James chuckles darkly.

When she finally opens her eyes, everything seems to tilt and shift before coming into focus. James is leaning against the counter shirtless, feet bare, with dark jeans slung low on his hips, a tea towel slung over his scarred shoulder, and his metal fingers tapping out a rhythm on the marble countertop. A coil of want burns in her belly as her eyes rake over the ripples of muscle on his chest and abdomen. She tears her eyes away looks down into her mug, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

"Sleep well?"

"Um, yeah." Darcy replies and mentally slaps herself ‘Awkward.’ she thinks and takes a gulp of coffee scalding her tongue. "Ow! Motherfucking goddamnit."

"You okay there, doll face?"

"I..." Darcy hesitates, thoughts rattling around her head. Trust, secrets, comfort, sex. Where the fuck are her panties and how the hell this is all going to end? Finally she shrugs one shoulder, tugs his shirt down against her thighs. "Yes and no. I don't know. What do we do now? I just... God it's too fucking early for talking. Coffee first. Food and a shower. And I would really like to find my panties."

James nods, eyes distant a moment before his mouth ticks up in a slow grin, that makes her insides clench. He reaches a hand into his back pocket and pulls out a scrap of red lace. "These?" His grin widens and he holds the lace high out of her reach. “I dunno, doll face. Thought I might keep ‘em.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re an ass, Barnes?” Darcy snarks, but there is only amusement in her voice as she takes a sip of coffee, sets the mug down on the counter, and steps into James, her fingertips barely brushing against the bare skin of his abdomen.

“Eh, people love me,” James smirks down at her, but there are shadows lurking in his eyes. “Used ta love me, before....I think.” The shadows darken and his brow furrows, seemingly trying to grasp at the tangled strands of memories in his head, the ones that have been cut and repaired with different coloured bits of string.

“Stop that,” Darcy frowns, and reaches her hands around his neck as she pushed up on her toes, bringing their mouths together. His mouth is closed and she brushes her tongue teasingly along the seam of his lips until he opens his, letting her lick into his mouth. He tastes of bitter coffee, salty bacon, and maple syrup. He slides his hands down and around, cupping her bare ass and pulling her tight against him. She moans, arching her body into him. Thinks about wrapping her legs around him and letting him take her on the counter, on the kitchen table, on the floor. Instead she smiles against his mouth, then twists and pulls away, snags her panties from his hand and steps to the side of the counter to wiggle into her panties.

“You’re a cruel woman, Lewis,” James pouts, running both hands through his hair.

“And you taste like bacon and syrup. I want.”

“You can have me, doll,” James smirks, leaning against the counter.

“Food,” Darcy points at the frying pan on the stove, “Feed me now.”

“Pancakes it is.” James winks and flashes a toothy grin that makes her roll her eyes as she drags her coffee mug across the counter. Darcy sips her coffee slowly as she watches James busy himself, stealing a slice of bacon from a plate and whisking a bowl of pancake batter. There was a sort of elegance to his movements—pouring batter, flipping pancakes, with an assured grace that Darcy is sure she will never have. With his back to her she can see the fading scratches from last night and she bites her lip, a blush rising to her cheeks as memories flood her brain. She still isn’t sure if it was a good decision to sleep with him, but god it had been so long and it had been so good. She winces then as her memory replays the last time, when James was gentle and she forgot herself, let her heart show. She tries to remember the last time she was so honest. It hurts.

“Stop it,” James whispers in her ear as he sets a plate stacked high with pancakes, fresh strawberries and bacon in front of her. They eat in companionable silence; breakfast is something they have done many a time before with Steve, and the layer of morning-after awkwardness seems to level out. He steals the last piece of syrup covered bacon from her plate, and she steals his last strawberry, and takes a sip of the thick sludge in his cup that he calls coffee and she calls motor oil. It’s nice, though. She can feel James’ eyes examining her all the while. “So when did you fall for my idiot of a best friend?” he finally asks and Darcy’s fork clatters onto her empty plate.

“Sorry,” Darcy apologizes, but she isn’t really sure what for. Her fingers tangle with the napkin in her lap, twisting it and wrapping it around her knuckles. “I don’t know when. Maybe...maybe from the first time I met him when Jane moved into the tower right after New York. I’d been at S.H.I.E.L.D. six months by then. Coulson poached me out from under Dr. Foster after the New Mexico Incident. When they examined my iPod they set off Igor, one of my pet programs. They cracked through most of my walls anyway, but well, you know how they are about collecting weirdos, outcasts, and grey hats. I went to visit Jane in the tower and Steve brought us coffee. JARVIS instigated it I’m pretty sure. Anyway, we talked after Jane slipped into a science haze, and I helped him pick out a shirt to wear for his first date with Beth.” Darcy’s mouth twists in wry humour as she drinks the last sip of cold coffee in her mug.

“And you fell for him then?”

“No. It wasn’t till a few months after that—when they dragged the Winter Soldier back from a fucked up mission in Siberia. Steve wouldn’t listen to anyone as they operated on you; it wasn’t till you were awake and said you weren’t Bucky, that Bucky was dead, that he went to that shitty gym you guys work out at. I followed him, couldn’t leave my best friend alone. I didn’t know I loved him till he fell to his knees and I held him.” She looks away from James then, staring at the clock on the wall but seeing that scene in the gym. She can see Steve on his knees; feel the press of his body as he wrapped his arms around her and cried into her shirt; can feel the texture of Steve’s hair as she brushed her hands through it. That was the moment when she knew she was fucked and she laughs bitterly at the memory and wonders if Steve ever told Beth.

“Christ doll, that was what, eight months ago?” James murmurs. “You gonna tell him.”

“He has a girlfriend, Barnes. I’m not fucking up his life when he just got one.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You aren’t dating anyone now. I know that much, all you do is fuckin’ work. When was the last time you were with someone?”

“You asking me how many men I’ve fucked in the last year?” Darcy twists her lips into a vicious smile.

“Yeah.” Bucky grins utterly unrepentant.

"Including you?" Darcy asks, pursing her lips and swirling her fork in the syrup on her plate. At James' arched brow she huffs and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "Just you," she bites out.

"How many before that?" James needles.

"One."

"One last year?"

"No. Just one." Darcy grits out cheeks burning red. "I..." She falters, not sure what she wants to say.

"Seriously, doll? Fuck."

"Yeah,” Darcy laughs, and it is only the tiniest bit bitter, "Trust issues...I don't like to be touched."

“You let me touch you, let Steve. Hell, half the Avengers hug you.”

“That’s different, I know you; I know that you won’t hurt me, not that way.” Darcy says avoiding his gaze. Shestartles when James entangles his hand with hers, squeezing gently. “You remember the first time they let you roam free, the first time you saw me?”

“You took down that agent who put his hand on your arm. You punched him in the throat and kicked him in the balls. Natasha and Steve were so fucking proud,” James grins.

"Yeah Agent Weston, fucking douche,” Darcy snorts, “God, you must think I'm some fucking prude." She pulls her hand away and covers her face.

"Doll, believe me, after last night I'd never think that. I think I have a limp. And it sure as fuck wasn't a cat that scratched up my back," James smirks lopsidedly and Darcy laughs then for the first time in what feels like days. He wraps an arm around her and drags her into his lap, and gently kissed her temple.

“Ass,” she mutters. But after a moment, she snuggles into his arms, burying her nose in his neck and hugging him back, taking comfort in his embrace. They talk for awhile then, just whispered truths. James tells her some of his pieced together memories of Steve and of Natasha. How sometimes they talk and he can’t remember, and how Steve walks around like he is standing on eggshells with his sad fucking puppy eyes. Darcy shares pieces of her childhood, her mother’s drinking problem, her stepfather’s verbal abuse, and then the story of when he attempted to molest her.

She had been fifteen for seven days and he held a knife to her throat, cut her arm and she grabbed the taser out of her back pack. She had borrowed it from her boss Mrs. Landers, for the long walk home after working at the copy centre the night before. Told James how she packed up her bag, stole his wallet, stripped his bank account, bought a car, with fake ID and never looked back. Put her skills to work, busting her ass selling fake IDs and hacking for hire while finishing high school two states over from where she started out. Eventually her voice trails off and James kisses her gently, his hand sliding up her thigh to slip under the edge of the shirt, fingers curling against the elastic of her panties. “Let’s go back to bed, doll,” James whispers against her mouth, nipping at her lower lip.

“Mmm, much as I would like to do that I have work to do.”

“It’s Saturday.”

“Paperwork won’t write itself and S.H.I.E.L.D. never sleeps. The next mad scientist is out there ready to release the next batch of giant polka dotted slugs upon the world,” Darcy says with a straight face and James shudders dramatically. She slips out of his lap and makes her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and startling at the sight of her own reflection, at red rimmed eyes, neck covered in bruises and stubble rash. “Damn it Bucky,” she shouts and hears James laughing in return.

......

She opens the bathroom door, letting out a cloud of steam, balanced on one foot as she slips her heel on, wincing as it rubs against a blister. There are voices murmuring down the hall, and apprehension rises as one of the voices becomes clear. "Buck? What's Darcy's phone doing here?"

"Because I'm here," Darcy says and Steve turns his eyes raking over yesterday's slightly wrinkled suit, her hair damp and curling in a wild tangle around her shoulders. Darcy bites her lip, hands clenched into fists at her sides. Steve looks between her and James who is standing in the middle of the room a slight smirk on his face.

"I told you," Steve grits out between clenched jaws.

"Told me what?" James asks, smirk still firmly in place.

"Not to touch her," Steve snaps, hands curling into fists, every line of his body tense.

"Oh, I did more than that," Bucky taunts, grinning and rolling his shoulders. Steve swings a fist into Bucky's mouth.

"She ain't your girl, Cap,” Bucky grins, wiping blood from his split lip. “You got that cold little waitress freezing your sheets.”

“Bucky don’t,” Darcy pleads. there is no way she wants to be caught in the middle of whatever this is, this tension that has been brewing between James and Steve for months now. Steve always being careful, so fucking careful around James. Afraid that he would shatter. She had been playing buffer for far too long.

“Stay out of it, Darce.”

“...gorgeous little thing that she is. And she tastes so fucking sweet," James says, hands loose at his sides, a twisted grin curving across his face. Steve cocks his arm back. This time Bucky slips to the side. Within moments they are both swinging heavy blows. Bucky’s spitting blood on Steve's perfectly pressed shirt. Laughs and curses in Steve's face. “Blessed art thou St. Steven of the perpetual white hat.”

“Bucky!” Darcy shouts. “Knock it off!”

“I’m sick to fuckin’ death of you playing perfect Captain America. When did you start buying into your own fuckin' propaganda, asshole?”

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

Darcy has never seen Steve look quite so angry; not since they brought James into SHIELD a broken thing to be pieced back together. She folds her arms underneath her breasts, fingernails pressing half moons into her flesh. She wishes she had her taser, and half considers getting a bucket of water as the boys rein angry blows down on one another. It’s vicious and a long time coming.

It’s only after James knocks Steve through the coffee table, fingers of his metal hand wrapped around Steve's neck as Steve reins blows against James' side and face that she decides to speak up. "Stop it you assholes! You're gonna end up killing each other and I'm not doing the fucking paperwork," Darcy shouts. Steve opens his mouth, but she cuts off before pretty words can tumble from his lips. “No! You don’t get to say fuck all to me. James is right. I’m not yours."

"Darce--"

"Go fuck yourself, Steve.” She bends over, grabs the Starkphone from the wreckage beside Steve’s head and stalks out of the room, hips swaying and heels clicking smartly on the hall tiles.

......

Bucky snorts as he lies beside Steve in the wood and broken glass of the smashed coffee table. He glances at Steve as he pulls himself up to sitting and Steve's still watching Darcy’s retreating form as she disappears down the hall. There is a flicker of emotion in his friend’s eyes, a tightening of the skin around his mouth and Bucky starts laughing. "You're a fucking moron, Rogers."

"Fuck off, Barnes," Steve snarls, rolling to his feet and brushing bits of glass and splintered wood out of his hair and clothes.

"Christ Rogers, you fucking love her don’t you?” Bucky asks but Steve looks away, “You’re in love with our little kitten. That’s just too fuckin' rich." Bucky shakes his head at Steve's clenched jaw and averted gaze. Bucky pulls a shard of glass from his human arm, watches the blood well up as he tosses the glass away.

"Buck-"

"It's fine. Just another scar. Help me clean up the place and we're good. Then you can go talk to Darcy and I can sit back and watch her tear you a new one."

"Jerk," Steve says without any heat.

"You really fucked up."

"I know."


End file.
